Following a winding dirt clearing to the top of one of the loftiest hills of Southern SLO region sits a lost site of civilization. It isn't much, no paradise built for millionaire, but they call it home. Around an old white post chicken-wire fence sits a trio of old colonial style buildings that are in dire need of a paint job. The three are built at an angle around a single center built fire pit that crackles and flickers at all hours of the day. In the distance there's an old cow colored RV as long as a short bed semi which leash a set of doberman dogs that eye all comers with a ragged curiosity.
For those in sync with the wyld, there's an energy here, a playful curiosity that feels as old and looming as an ancient European castle.
Past the trio of buildings, through a sea of long rising California Coastal Oak sits a low running lake of green and blue. The waters have seen better days, droughts and pollution have weakened the wells, exposing the lowest levels seen in hundreds of years. Following the waters to a clearing as dark as winter night on even the brightest noon days, stands a old, ancient tree stemming from a trio of bold grey rocks. The tree wrapped in knots around itself as it rises as high as any of it's kin.